Awakenings: SGA
by Child of Loki
Summary: The aftermath of Sam and Jack's wedding...ElizabethJohn, CamVala and of course JackSam
1. The Morning After Is Never Easy

**Background: **This has been sitting around for awhile (like many other not posted/ready-to-be-posted fics in my SGA file). It was just an idea I had, although I am not all that familiar with the last few seasons of SG-1…I found myself wondering what if Jack and Sam had a big wedding, and Elizabeth and John, among others, were invited? What if there was a huge party afterward? What would the aftermath be?

**The Stories: **Since I've also begun to focus on Vala and Cam in this context (and I couldn't decide which category a combination of both SGA and SG1 would belong) I've decided to present this exploration (aka me playing with characters) as two companion pieces. Both will be in the exact same uni and are under the same title, one centering on John and Elizabeth (and hence posted in SGA) the other Vala/Cam (within SG1 category). Reading the companion will not be necessary to enjoy either of the stories, but is highly recommended :-)

**Uni Info: **I don't plan either fics to make specific references to episodes, but sometimes it occurs when you're writing no matter your intention. As mentioned earlier, I am not awfully familiar with the last few seasons of SG1 (although quite intimate with seasons 1-7). Also, I have only seen up through season two of Atlantis (although love it). Just so you know where I'm coming from.

**Sorry for taking so much time to explain myself, please read on, enjoy!**

**Awakenings**

The Morning After Is Never Easy 

Jack O'Neill studied the figures sleeping soundly on the couch. The man and woman were lying on their sides, facing one another. Her green dress, the same one she had adorned the previous day had shifted, scrunched up around her middle enough to raise the side-slit to her waist. It fell open, revealing the creamy skin of her hip and leg. He followed the attractive exposed flesh up from her ankle along her leg that wrapped around the man's to where the material again covered her body. The man's arm was gently resting just above her naked hip, in the curve of her waist, his hand flexed and pressed against the small of her back. He couldn't make out where the man's other hand lay, besides that it disappeared under her placid body. Her bare arms were folded in between the pair, the fingers of one hand falling delicately against her companion's stubble-covered jaw. Their heads lay on the same pillow, foreheads pressed tenderly together, noses almost brushing against one another, breathing each other's breathe. And he couldn't help but note the looks of pure contentment upon their faces, the corners of their mouths turned up in partial smiles. These were people at peace.

"Rise and Shine!" He shouted, only slightly regretting the disruption of the tranquil moment, for he was certain the pair rarely, if ever, felt that much serenity. He banged the metal spoon against the bottom of the pot. Both items had been precisely chosen for their volume-creating capabilities. "Breakfast's on!"

Jack enjoyed the scene that unfolded before him immensely. He didn't stifle the laugh as he watched Colonel Sheppard start awake, lose his balance on the outer edge of the small sofa, and crash to the floor with a groan.

Turning his attention to the other side of the room, Jack spotted General Landry, who opened his eyes wide, and looking as refreshed as ever, whipped off the blanket that had been covering him and practically jumped out of the chair he had been sleeping in. Jack made a note of the fact that his clothes didn't even appear to have a wrinkle marring them, despite the festivities of the day before.

"Great! What's for breakfast?" Landry asked, probably the only one who could or would be chipper after a night like the previous.

"Cart-_Sam's_ making eggs," Jack supplied, catching and correcting the no longer appropriate habit. Now that she was his wife, he shouldn't be calling her by her last name anymore. At least she insisted that it wasn't quite right, although she had continually let the odd 'sir' slip throughout their personal relationship. "And there's coffee."

"Excellent!" he said exuberantly, clasping his hands together before pausing and giving Jack a questioning look. Jack held out an open arm and hand to his left, indicating the direction the other general should take and inviting him to do so first.

Jack turned to follow but paused as he noticed Dr. Elizabeth Weir yawn and stretch, perched on the edge of the couch. She rose to her feet and pulled at her dress until it was straight and adequately covering her creamy skin again, although severely rumpled. She glanced down and seemingly unphased, stepped over the body of John Sheppard still lying pathetically on his back upon the floor, while simultaneously asking "Did I hear that there's coffee?"

"Yes. This way," Jack answered inviting her to go in ahead of him.

**A/N: What will happen next? Will Sam be able to provide enough coffee for the hungover guests or will there be an uprising? Will John be able to pull himself together and off from the cold, hard floor?**

**A/N2: Apologies for brevity of first part. Will try harder…**


	2. Places You Don't Wanna Go

**Author's Note: Umm…not to sure how I feel about this one. It has been the most difficult so far, and **_**the**_** part that has been slowing me down. **

**I had wanted the two fics to run sort of contemporaneously, however that is not going to work out so well. So the end of this chapter will actually take place after the third chapter of the SG-1 fic. You'll see what I'm talking about if you read both. Both should end up being the same number of total chapters and I will not post the next chapter to one before I catch up with the other. (Not that this is all that vital to reading it).**

**Warning: Some coarse language, but nothing too severe or profuse.**

**Awakenings**

Places You Don't Wanna Go

_No underwear._ John mused to himself. And although he knew the fact that Elizabeth was lacking panties was something he shouldn't be thinking about, he logged the interesting snippet away for later consideration. He couldn't really recall the details of what had happened. Nothing was too clear besides the fact that he was lying on the hard floor and he had been previously asleep on the couch, apparently alongside Elizabeth's much more cozy body.

Again, thoughts he shouldn't entertain flooded his mind; the feel of her smooth bare leg as he inadvertently brushed his clumsy hand against her while he stirred in his sleep, her scent strong despite the pungent odor of alcohol, the gentle rhythm of her heart and the rise and fall of her chest. He really couldn't differentiate between which was dream and which had been reality.

This was going to make things awkward, at least until they remembered what had actually happened. Then again, if a certain something had occurred, the awkwardness of the current situation would pale in comparison to the embarrassment and shame he'd feel. Because if anything risqué or potentially scandalous had passed between Elizabeth and him, then it was most definitely his fault. He was the irresponsible one. She didn't have an inappropriate bone in her body. At least none that he had seen. _Or had he?_

And that was precisely the problem. What had he seen? (Well, not counting a few moments ago when he got a look up her skirt) More than he was supposed to? More than she'd ever want him to?

John moaned as he picked himself off from the floor. His head pounded at him in three contradictory rhythms, like a horribly laid out rap rhythm. Whatever he had done the previous night, the impetus was undeniable.

Hangovers were always a bitch, in any galaxy, but especially on Earth.

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"How'd everyone sleep?" Sam asked her guests as they shuffled into the kitchen behind Jack. She turned back to tend to the pan of scrambled eggs cooking on the stove top, only to be distracted by an open moment of tenderness she was still finding it difficult to get used to. Jack stood behind her, their bodies touching, wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her neck.

Elizabeth smiled at the affectionate display, exchanging an amused look with Landry over the way the new bride blushed. Of course, the couple had nothing to blush about, finally husband and wife, finally accepting of their feelings, expected to be open about them. But Elizabeth…she should be the one blushing. She was the one who had woken up in a compromising position, one she had no recollection of falling asleep in, one she had never considered possible.

"I don't know about everyone else, but I slept quite well," Landry answered the hostess' inquiry, sending an insinuating look in Elizabeth's direction. Sam, having been freed of the ministrations of her husband, caught the meaningful exchange and sent her own questioning look towards Jack.

He leaned in, pretending to kiss her neck once more but whispered something Elizabeth just knew pertained to his finding her on the couch with John. Then he turned to General Landry.

"Hank, care to take our coffee on the porch?"

"Sounds good to me, Jack," he responded realizing that some plot was underway and he was meant to extricate himself in order to allow it to play out.

"Sure you don't mind?" Jack asked his gorgeous wife who had been consistently glowing with happiness since the previous day, placing another soft kiss upon her cheek.

"I think I can handle breakfast," she replied, laughing. It felt so good to be able to have these conversations with the man she had been in love with for years, to finally be able to share her life with him. "I'll call out to you when it's ready."

And with that, the two women were left alone in the rather large kitchen. Much to her alarm the sound of Elizabeth's bare feet padding across the floor echoed in the white-tiled room. She was going to ask Sam if she could help with breakfast, but was distracted by the impressiveness of the classy and no doubt expensive appliances, furniture, and well, room, _strike that_, house in general.

"It was really nice of Senator Snider to offer his summer home for the wedding," Elizabeth commented.

"Yeah," the blonde replied, tending to the large pan of cooking eggs. "I guess he owed Jack a few favors. Something about getting him out of meetings that would put a race care driver on speed to sleep. The two are really a lot alike."

Elizabeth tried to picture a man similar to Jack O'Neill in personality becoming a US senator and failed. But then again, she had never pictured Jack O'Neill as a general either…

"Can I help you with something?" Elizabeth asked, finally remembering her manners. She tried to excuse the lapse to herself on the worst hangover she had had since her college days. The truth was it was probably due more to the distracting memories her mind kept straying to, of John's hands wrapped around her waist, his body so close it warmed her inside and out.

"Thanks, but I've got it under control," Sam said, smiling. How was she going to get the woman to open up to her? The leaders of Atlantis had seemed pretty cozy the night before, and after what Jack had just told her… She wanted the scoop, and she wanted it from Elizabeth. _Now, what to use to bribe a regular workaholic presently suffering an obvious hangover? _"Coffee?"

"Oh yes, please!" Elizabeth replied eagerly. She had smelled the delicious aroma since she had first been startled awake by the general's prank. But where was it?! Her eyes darted around the expansive kitchen, searching out the magic elixir that was her only salvation from how bizarre she felt. But she couldn't find it. She should have paid more attention when the generals had fixed theirs instead of contemplating the noises John made in his sleep.

"Over there," Sam said, pointing across the kitchen to a far off counter. Elizabeth filled the disappointingly small mug to the brim, deciding that she needed it black for cream or sugar would only decrease the overall amount of caffeine in the less than adequate volume the cup held. She took a sip before she pulled a stool up to a counter closer to where the hostess was busying herself with breakfast.

_Mmm…heaven sent. _

The world somehow seemed a better place now that she had a cup of java warming her hands and placating her whining body and groggy head.

"So where are you and the general headed for your honeymoon?" Elizabeth asked after she felt more collected.

"Oh, nowhere fancy," Sam replied. "Just up to Jack's cabin."

"The one with the pond with no fish in it?" asked Elizabeth.

"I see you've heard of it," Sam said, smiling. _There_. The other woman had opened up to her, but Sam was running out of time. Eggs really didn't take that long to cook, even though she had turned the stove down to buy more time. Plus, who knew when one or all of the other (more than likely) equally hungover houseguests would arise like zombies from their graves to storm the kitchen for brains. _Although this is a pretty fancy place just to pass out in._

The newly married woman wasn't really one to pry into the business of others, but seeing that Sheppard and Weir were perhaps in a similar situation to what her and Jack had been in…denying, to themselves and especially to others, their feelings…she sympathized. And now that she was experiencing such joy over being open and honest with the man she loved, she didn't want them to make the same mistake she had, keeping it inside, fighting it for so long.

But how could she articulate all of that to Elizabeth without offending her or putting her on the defensive?

Luckily, Elizabeth had felt the urge to fill the void in conversation, creating just the opportunity Sam needed to give her advice, hopefully without seemingly giving it.

"You seem very happy," Elizabeth observed. "I'm glad for you and Jack."

"Thank you," Sam returned. This was her chance to impart some wisdom, painfully learned through years of suffering in silence. She took the pan of eggs off from the heat and turned to face Elizabeth, a woman she felt she could call a friend, not because of numerous conversations and time spent together but because they seemed to hold so much in common. "You know…I _am_ so happy. And sometimes when I think of all those years that I denied myself such happiness…But no regrets, right? I will treasure all the time I have with Jack, now." She sighed, pausing to make sure she held Elizabeth's attention, that the woman hadn't recognized her lecture for what it was, choosing to ignore it. Elizabeth returned her gaze with a sympathetic and concerned one. Sam continued. "It's just that now that I have this, I realize how much more important and valuable it is than any of the reasons I held back for all those years. I wish somebody had been there to tell me this then…"

"Then again, I probably wouldn't have listened to them." She transferred the mountain of scrambled eggs to a large bowl. Giving Elizabeth a fleetingly sad smile, she said, "But the past is the past for a reason."

"And we have now." She set the bowl on the kitchen table next to the large stack of toast and other breakfast paraphernalia. "And I wouldn't trade it for anything."

And with that, she was back to her radiantly joyful self. However, Elizabeth remained in shock for several moments as Sam went to call her husband in for breakfast. There had been such pain in the woman's eyes, such regret, if ever so briefly. She felt bad that she could say nothing to comfort her. But there wasn't really anything to fix that hadn't already been taken care of by Jack. And how could one person apologize for the regrets of another?

Regrets were solely the responsibility and burden of those who created them. So why had she told Elizabeth? Why had it been so important for Sam to share her remorse with her?

Elizabeth's thoughts jumped to John for a moment, which only served to confuse her further. It must be the hangover. She wasn't thinking clearly.

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John had fully intended upon getting up, following the others into the kitchen and searching out some sort of antidote for the alcohol-induced pounding in his head. Instead, he had only made it a few steps before deciding he needed to sit down before he fell down, rediscovered the luxurious sofa and passed back out.

Noisy bickering that took him back to his childhood, or any day spent with Dr. Rodney McKay, aroused him from his sound sleep. He risked the stabbing pain of daylight, opening his eyes slightly to witness Colonel Mitchell and that alien-girl, Vala, fighting like small children as they walked through the living room.

And exactly like small children it was. One would slap or shove the other slightly, to which the other would respond in kind physically, and/or say, "Don't touch me." He half expected a schoolmarm to show up and scold them with "Keep your hands to yourself, children."

Although his head was very much groggy, John managed to pick up the basic gist of the 'conversation' as they passed. Mitchell was upset by Vala's choice of attire…_why?_ She had looked pretty good in that little black number she had been sporting the previous day. John opened his eyes a little wider to get a better look.

_Oh._

That explained that.

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Elizabeth's thoughts were totally disrupted as the next wave of houseguests poured into the large, but not quite _that_ large kitchen. She had drifted off into her own silent reverie as the others sat down for breakfast and fell into small talk…not that she didn't enjoy the generals' or lieutenant-colonel's company.

She was just feeling confused and distracted.

The new arrivals to breakfast didn't aide her capabilities to think straight. Before they even entered the room, she could hear them arguing, that is except for the large, silent man who entered last. Teal'c nodded his head in acknowledgement to her and she returned it with a genial smile. His two companions had immediately desisted their banter upon entering the kitchen, and a hush fell as the others' took in the sight of the pair.

Elizabeth didn't like making snap judgments, but her imagination didn't have far to go before intersecting with her rationale in interpreting what she saw.

A moment after she had reached the conclusion, it was made apparent that so had everyone else in the room as a ruckus broke out when they all simultaneously tried to make comments that only sort of pointed out the fact that was apparent to them while also excusing or ignoring it.

Elizabeth took advantage of the distraction to pour another cup of coffee and sneak out of the kitchen. She wasn't especially looking forward to this conversation, but she supposed things could be worse. At least she had only cuddled with John, woke up in her own clothes and wasn't forced to wander around in his shirt. _Poor Vala._

She took a deep breath before she made her way towards the place she didn't especially want to go at the moment.

A/N: I'm not too sure of my portrayal of Carter (too domestic and squishy?), but it was necessary. I'm just playing, anyway! (right?)

Oh yeah, we'll get more of John's thoughts later…I know I was more with Elizabeth this time around (that always seems to happen with me…I guess I'm drawn to her for some reason).


	3. Talk Is Cheap

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Stargate franchise or its characters… (I seem to have been forgetting this…not the part about not owning it, the part about putting this statement in).**

**Author's Note: So…um…yeah…sorry for the delay. I've been writing, just not really for this or anything else I'd ever post here…or anywhere really… Anyway, yet again, not really feeling this chapter… I thought this fic and its counterpart would just be a fun little fling, but instead it's turning into a long-term traumatic relationship :-) Just kidding, I enjoy writing it (sometimes).**

**Awakenings**

Talk Is Cheap

"Hey," John greeted Elizabeth as she entered one of the many sitting rooms in the grandiose house. "I was just about to…" He gave up when she pinned him with an appraising stare. She knew him too well. Lies weren't going to work, no matter how small and white they were, not in this case. "…fall back asleep, actually."

"You could probably use this then," she said, handing him one of the steaming mugs she held in her delicate hands. Those petite hands were one of the many features that made her appear fragile, that always made him want to protect her, despite the fact that he knew full well she didn't always need protecting.

He slid over, making room for her to sit beside him on the sofa upon which they had spent the night, together. A sigh escaped him. He wasn't sure exactly what it was for, the embarrassment that he perhaps lost control of himself (in a different way than usual), that his body was complaining about the worst hangover he'd experienced in quite a while, or the fact that Elizabeth no doubt wanted to _talk about_ _it._

He liked her, quite a bit, and didn't mind talking to her, for the most part. In all honesty, he rather enjoyed even the confrontations they had, the fact that he could make her lose control every once in awhile, if only over her temper for a few seconds. But this kind of _talk_, it was the kind he'd probably never enjoy in his life. It no doubt would include _feelings_, and since Elizabeth were involved, big fancy words that described those _feelings _without actually describing them. It would be _diplomacy. _He _hated _when she used _diplomacy_ on him.

They were supposed to be friends, after all. Friends didn't go around using _diplomacy _on one another. That was something you inflicted upon your enemies. Friends were supposed to use real honesty or just all out lie to make the other feel better, never ever _diplomacy!_

"It was a nice ceremony," Elizabeth commented after a few moments had passed consisting of them silently drinking their coffee. It startled John out of his growing bitterness and self-indulgent hate-filled reverie over _diplomacy_ and _feelings._

"Hmm?" he responded, still not following where the statement had come from, or fathoming its complete lack of _feelings. _It had the word 'nice' in it. That was an opinion. And wasn't an opinion based on _feelings?_ John shook his head, realizing that whatever he had done yesterday, his mind was paying for it today with its half-baked attempts at philosophical ponderings.

"They seem very happy together," Elizabeth continued. She hurt and was confused. She could tell John was just as confused as she, if not more. Avoiding _the _discussion would be just as much a relief to her as it was to him. Besides, how could she try to discuss it with him, if she hadn't even worked it out for herself yet, or even wholly remembered that which needed contemplation?

"Yes," John responded. His mind now relieved of its bitter, and what it had thought profound, conclusions about women, _feelings _and _diplomacy _(namely that he would rather hug an armed nuclear warhead than simultaneously deal with any of the afore mentioned) it moved onto suspicion. _Why wasn't _the _discussion occurring? _

_On second thought, screw that! Take what you can get and run! _

"They do seem very happy together," John mimicked, forever the inarticulate romantic. His skills were action and innuendo. Sincerity and sentimentality, or 'sappiness' as he referred to it, was a little bit more difficult for him to grasp.

"When does the _Daedalus _leave?" she asked, even though she knew full-well it was set to depart at 15:00 hours that day. The thing about avoiding a conversation that would inevitably occur at some point, was finding other conversations to have while not-having that one that is most central to your mind.

"15:00 hours," John responded, knowing there was no way Elizabeth had forgotten, but not even approaching considering pointing out that fact to her.

"That doesn't give us a whole lot of time, then," Elizabeth replied.

It was funny how two people could sit next to one another on a small, more-for-decoration-than-use sofa, having a non-conversation, staring straight ahead the entire time without once glancing in the other's direction, and still have the tension between them grow so thick that if a bird flew by it would probably stop suddenly in mid-air with an audible thump and fall to the ground like it had struck a spotless window.

Elizabeth squirmed slightly, feeling the most uncomfortable in her own skin since she was a teenager. Her eyes darted over her companion of their own accord, surveying his extremely disheveled form, noting that it was unkempt even by John Sheppard standards. Sure, he generally had a scruffiness about him, but despite the hair perpetually looking like he had just rolled out of bed and the almost ever-present five o'clock shadow, she had always been able to tell it was a sort of an intentional untidiness, that he more than likely put a fair amount of effort into looking like he didn't care about his appearance.

This morning, he didn't need to try to look casual. No man wearing a dress shirt and slacks could possibly ever look as casual as this one did, no matter how hard they tried. When she first had seen him, right before they had left for the wedding, she had been shocked by his apparent dressed-down appearance, and momentarily regretted the fact that the wedding hadn't required formal dress, i.e. dress uniforms, for the enlisted. Then she got over it rather quickly, the roguish charm of it working on her; the dress shirt with the first few buttons undone, the loosely worn blazer with slacks matching his dark, tussled hair. And still, the stubble at his jaw.

That same stubble darkened his face further this morning and Elizabeth couldn't keep herself from wondering what it would feel like against her bare skin. Part of her protested that it wasn't an appropriate thought. Another part of her pointed out that she perhaps already knew, dare she remember.

She squirmed again at the thought, pretended to pick at her dress, and then refocused her energy on drinking the cup of coffee in her hands without looking at him again.

John felt her squirm, felt the tension and the agonizingly uneasy silence building between them. Normally, he would revel in such an embarrassment and discomfort that Elizabeth was suffering. She was always so reserved, so uptight. He loved throwing her off balance. But this, _this_ was a bit too much, even for him. Maybe, if he could remember exactly what had lead to his rather wonderfully relaxing sleep (now that he considered it) with Elizabeth in his arms, he'd be able to get past his own discomfort and revel in hers. Teasing others is how he dealt with uncomfortable situations, and not feeling in the mood to do so left him with little options to distract himself.

Maybe if he tried to remember…

Laughing, drinking… _dancing_?... touching…his hands all over her body, like he was a teenager again, one with a really attractive and inebriated prom date…her scent so strong and alluring despite the pungent odor of alcohol… those lips stained red from lipstick or wine, or a combination of both…it hadn't mattered had it? They had drawn him in either way… warm and delicious… the feel of her smooth skin as he ran his hand up her leg…the curve of her hip and waist…the feel of her body pressed tightly against his…

John shook his head quickly, breaking the trance he had fallen into as the memories of the previous day came to him in flashes. Letting a breath out slowly to ease the rush that had swept over him, he tried to ignore the fact that such a tentative exploration of the memories was capable of distracting him to that degree. It just wasn't right. Memories, and incomplete memories at that, should not be able to quicken his heart rate and heat his blood with such facility.

The situation was immensely uncomfortable, and John wanted out. Yes, that was the best course of action. A change of scenery, leaving this place, doing something, anything besides sitting there in the ever-growing avalanche of awkward silence is what was needed. Inspiration hit John as he gloomily contemplated the notion that perhaps they would not be able to leave the discomfort behind with their departure.

"When does our flight leave?" he asked, startling Elizabeth out of her own wandering thoughts, which she was desperately trying to direct away from the man sitting so very close to her.

Damn it! She had almost forgotten what it would take just to get to the _Daedalus_, she had been so distracted with worrying about how she was going to survive the next few weeks in a rather confined space, avoiding the man whose company, admittedly, she had previously most enjoyed out of all of those on the ship.

Shoving aside consideration of the troublesome twist her life had just taken, Elizabeth desperately searched the ornate room for a clock. As soon as her eyes came to rest upon the decadent golden ticking monstrosity that served as timepiece for the room, she jumped to her feet.

"We only have an hour and fifteen minutes to get to the airport!' she exclaimed. This revelation caused John to spring to his feet beside her, any feeling of lethargy suddenly dissipated. "And we still need to get our things from the hotel."

Her head began its cry of dissent again as her day seemed to only get worse. She jumped in surprise as she felt John take her hand. He began to pull her behind him as he headed for the front door.

She dug in her heels.

"Wait!" she said in what she hoped was a forceful voice, but was afraid it came out rather like a pouting child. She permitted herself a quick moment of loathing. _He could be so bossy and obstinate sometimes!_

John halted his attempt to flee, instead turning to face his companion.

Elizabeth glared at him. She was capable of giving him the most scathing looks at times that he could swear had she been a more violent person, he'd have a considerable number of scars more than he did.

"We can't leave without saying goodbye," she pointed out, her look melting slightly. Finding no sympathy or understanding in his face, it hardened again. "That would be _rude._"

"Right," John mumbled, rolling his eyes at the reappearance of Elizabeth Weir, diplomat, as he followed her into the kitchen…

**A/N: For some reason, writing this chapter was like pulling teeth. I hope that this was not too apparent…**


	4. Everything Is Fine, Really!

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Stargate franchise or its characters…**

**Author's Note: I've had this done for a little while now. As usual, I'm not quite feeling it for some reason…**

**Awakenings**

Everything's Perfectly Fine…Really!

John and Elizabeth popped back into the kitchen, now quite busy with its hungover occupants trying to get a grip on reality and the fact that it was day already, in order to say goodbye.

"Just wanted to let you know that we're heading out," John said.

"Oh, already?" Sam asked disappointed that she had been unable to tease more information out of Elizabeth than the little she had gathered from the woman's reactions.

"Actually, we should be leaving, soon, too," Jack reminded her of the flight they had to catch for their honeymoon.

"We can't leave the house like this!" She protested. "It's a mess!"

"That's what Fred is paying the servants for!" he retorted. Everyone else in the room rolled their eyes and stifled amused giggling over the couple's exchange. John, however was in a hurry to get out of there, not that the trip back would be anything less than excruciatingly awkward.

"The Daedalus leaves for Atlantis this afternoon," John supplied, hoping that Elizabeth and the others got the message to make the goodbye quick and over with. Why was he so anxious all of a sudden? Maybe it was all of those eyes that seemed to be scrutinizing him, him and Elizabeth. Or the fact that his superior officers caught him passed out on the couch with his boss lying in his arms in a fairly intimate manner. Or was it the strange vibes he was picking up, the strained tension in the room?

Pleasantries were exchanged by all, and John was ready to run out of the sizeable house dragging Elizabeth with him when he remembered a key necessity for doing so.

"Has anyone seen our shoes?" John asked, looking down at his bare feet and those of the brown-haired beauty standing beside him.

_Or my underwear?_ Elizabeth thought bitterly.

_Or my dress? _Vala added silently to John's inquiry.

_Or my willpower? _Cam thought.

_Or my self-respect for that matter?_

All four of those who had rude awakenings that morning had the same thought in unison. However, they didn't know just how similar they all felt at that particular moment.

After several moments in which everyone appeared either a.) lost in their own thoughts, b.) clueless as to where the pair's footwear had gotten to nor cared, or c.) clueless as to what he had asked them, John gave up and dragged Elizabeth to the last place he remembered wearing shoes…

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Elizabeth had dreamed, in her drunken and unconscious state, as she laid snuggly in her military commander's arms. But she hadn't remembered it until this moment, until she looked up from checking under the lawn furniture for their missing footwear, when the scene before her briefly, perfectly framed a tableau so undeniably familiar to her.

It was a scene from her dream, but more than that, it was one with which she was familiar for other reasons. It took her a moment as she stood locked in the disquieting mental state of déjà vu before revelation snapped into place like the last piece in a jigsaw puzzle.

This was from a movie, a classic movie, one of her favorite movies…

And her dream…she had been like Kathryn Hepburn, about to marry someone who treated her well enough, maybe even admired and loved her, but didn't understand her, Simon. It had been the night before the wedding and she had far too much to drink, and gone off with another man, John Sheppard. Maybe they had gone for a swim…She wasn't sure what had happened exactly, but she had questioned her own virtue (not unlike she was currently doing).

_Maybe the dream wasn't entirely inconsistent with reality. Maybe it was more of a memory?_

When all was said and done, she had ended up marrying Cary Grant instead.

_Nope, definitely a dream._

"Elizabeth!"

The sound of someone calling her name pulled Elizabeth out of her contemplations. She shook the dream from her head before looking about in search of its source (Not that the thought of marrying a Cary Grant in his prime wasn't quite lovely).

She found it, a dark figure amongst the green grass shimmering with dew in the still low rays of morning light. The contrast between the unhappy, almost brooding form of John Sheppard and the soft, gentle welcoming nature of the lawn stirred her.

"Elizabeth!"

God, she was susceptible to flights of fancy today! Or maybe just hungover…

Running across the lawn, enjoying the feel of the cool, wet grass upon her bare feet, she wished that she could lie down in its soft embrace and let it ease the pounding in her head and the general weariness that was burdening her body.

She slowed as she approached the sizeable ornate marble fountain, in which John currently had his arm plunged up to the exposed bicep, looking like her was fishing around for something. Before she was close enough to see what he was attempting to retrieve from the cold depths of the fountain, she noted that his black shoes, a little worse for wear were back upon his feet.

He stood up when she was only a few feet away, some horrid looking mess of dripping black material, with cardboard swollen with liquid and plastic hanging about it drearily…_oh, shit._

"Sorry," John said holding out the pair of water-ravaged shoes.

Elizabeth was more than a little upset. Those were her favourite pair of pumps. She had worn those to her senior prom. Okay, so that had been quite a few years ago…but they were in a classic style, and black heals never went out of fashion!

"How'd they get in the fountain!" she mourned their loss. John looked incredibly guilty, but no matter how much she wanted to blame him, she was afraid to do so when she couldn't quite recall what she had done. It could've been her fault, for all she knew…

---------------------------------------------

Samantha Carter O'Neill paused from packing her suitcase for a moment to stare out the window at the scene below. The taxi she had called for her guests had arrived and the pair that comprised the leaders of the Atlantis expedition had appeared at the edge of the driveway and were tentatively making their way to the car.

Sam smiled to herself, suppressing laughter as she watched Elizabeth Weir, who had apparently failed to recover her shoes tiptoe uneasily across the gravel. The opposite seemed to be true of John Sheppard who was striding across the rough surface in an unaffected manner. The dark haired man paused, seeming to realize the absence of his counterpart at his side.

He turned and walked back to her, reaching out a hand to steady her arm and saying something that Sam couldn't hear in the least bit. But its meaning, or entertainment value, wasn't lost upon her, for Weir appeared not to like what he had said, and there was no mistaking the body language that denoted a heated argument between the pair.

Sheppard seemed to be the one to back down, having his hand shaken off her arm, throwing it up with his other in the air and backing a couple feet away to assume a passive stance. Elizabeth had taken a few more precise, slow steps before he seemed to give up on the passivity, and swooped in to lift her up off her feet.

This time, Sam heard her scream his name.

But before the woman could put up much fuss, her chivalry-inspired friend had deposited her in the backseat of the cab and slid in beside her.

Sam thought that perhaps he was just trying to be a gentleman and spare her the pain of walking across rough gravel barefoot, but then that spin he had made after sweeping her up into his arms surely wasn't necessary just to be polite…

**A/N: I couldn't resist movie references, I'm horribly obsessed with film. 500 points to everyone who knows the one I've referenced here. gives goofy David Tennant Doctor Who style grin**


	5. UnComfortable Silences

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Stargate franchise or its characters… Nor do I own (some of) the brilliant dialogue utilized in the following. It belongs to the genius Quentin Tarantino…**

**And therefore, **

**Warning: Profanity Ahead!**

**Author's Note: Apologies for (1) shortness of this chapter. I guess I just accomplished what I wanted with less words than usual. I know, odd for me. And (2) More movie gibbering…**

**Awakenings**

[UnComfortable Silences

Elizabeth contemplated the silence that had fallen between her and her passenger as she drove. That had been the deal. She would handle all of the details, including driving from the base to the airport and back, and John would agree to accompany her to the wedding.

It was odd. Well, maybe not. Elizabeth had thought that John would probably want to bring Teyla as his guest, to show her Earth. But then again, he hadn't wanted to go himself…and Elizabeth had to admit that she was relieved they could leave Atlantis in Teyla's more than capable hands. Although Rodney always insisted that he could handle things, she only considered that as a last resort. He was intelligent enough, just not very responsible. Besides, he had been invited to the wedding, too, and Elizabeth thought that at least he would want to go, if nobody else, but he had refused saying something along the lines of his heart couldn't handle seeing the love of his life marry another man or some other such Rodney McKay nonsense…

And so it had been her and John, who had attended the wedding, who had too much to drink at the reception, who had fallen asleep in one another's arms. It was between them that the uncomfortable silences and awkward tension would settle and grow.

The plane ride hadn't been too bad. Frankly, it was because no one expected people to chat and get along well in such an innately uncomfortable situation. Although, Elizabeth had the dream again, only this time she had gotten drunk with Jimmy Stewart and ended up marrying John Sheppard in the end. Waking up from such a dream to face the man himself made her more than a little uneasy.

All these uncomfortable silences, like the one currenlty looming between John and herself, reminded Elizabeth of something…

"Don't you hate that?" she announced aloud, breaking the oppressive quiet.

"What?" John asked, generally confused by her comment, unwittingly playing into her game.

"Uncomfortable silences. Why do we feel it's necessary to yak about bullshit in order to be comfortable?" Elizabeth continued her thread. This time, John failed to play into her fun, instead he was bemused by the language he just heard her use. So she skipped ahead, "That's when you know you found somebody special. When you can just shut the fuck up for a minute, and comfortably share silence."

Now he was really confused, and shocked to witness such profainity pass through her lips. It didn't sound like Elizabeth in the least. It sounded more like…wait a minute!

"Pulp Fiction," John commented, laughing slightly as he figured it out. "I never pegged you as a Tarantino fan."

"Really?" Elizabeth asked, relieved that the silence had been broken. "Why not?"

"Uh…" John wasn't sure whether he had wholly misjudged her. "I just figured that since you don't care for violence…"

"You're right, John," Elizabeth conceded. "I abhor violence in real life. But movies…that's an entirely different thing. Besides, Tarantino is a genius with film. Reservoir Dogs? It's brilliant. A movie about a jewelry heist without ever showing the actual heist. It's all about the consequences of violence."

"Reservoir Dogs?" John was still bewildered by this film-connoisseur side of Elizabeth. "I thought you'd be more of a Kill Bill fan."

"Why's that?" Elizabeth asked, generally interested and rather ecstatic that they were having a normal conversation sans the unease of having found themselves in an unusual situation.

"Strong female lead kicking ass," John supplied, thanking the powers of fate that they were having a conversation that was somewhat like ones they'd had before.

"I did enjoy that one, too," Elizabeth confirmed. "Although the idea of a woman driven to violence because of her protective maternal nature was a little cliché for Tarantino…"

Their conversation continued to be one of ease and candor, much to the relief of both. Things would be okay. Things would be normal. And when they fell into silence again, it was a comfortable one, without the tension of unresolved issues and unspoken words.

**A/N: ****Okay, this chapter was a major copout, I admit it… but only o****ne more chapter left…Will they just be friends? Will they live happily after? Or will I leave you hanging horribly****…muhahaha!**


	6. Good Morning Again

**Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…**

**Author's note: Final part. Woohoo! (This took me way too long to write, embarrassingly so). Let the sap-fest continue…**

**Warning: Adult Subject Matter**

**Awakenings**

Good Morning…Again

John hesitated before her door. He had never been so anxious about seeing a girl, _woman_, before in his life, not even during his awkward teenager stage. He just wasn't sure what to do. It was stupid of him to think it would work, to entertain the possibility that she would even consider him…

But still, he couldn't stop thinking about her. He had to know. It was driving him mad! Even if she was way out of his league, too smart and classy for the likes of someone like him…he just had to know for sure. Maybe then, he could get her out of his head. Because from the moment he woke up with her in his arms, he could think of little else. And from the moment he remembered what had passed between them that night, he could think of nothing else.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he decided to go through with it. Well, at least partly, he could always bale out if need be…

Elizabeth seemed relatively happy to see him, although also slightly perplexed. Things had grown uneasy between them again, even after their pleasant, unburdened ride from the airport to the base. They would neither ever admit it, but they had basically been avoiding one another since they had settled in aboard the _Daedalus_.

"What can I do for you?" she asked, inviting him in to the small space that was serving for her living quarters during the trip back to Atlantis. So, that was how it was going to be? Not _Hello, John. How are you? _But _What can I do for you?_

It hurt, but John wasn't going to let himself be thrown off by her indifference. He had a good idea that it was intentional, meant to drive him away from precisely what he was thinking about doing.

"I come bearing gifts," he announced in what he hoped was a pleasant but nonchalant tone. It seemed to work, for the features of her face softened.

"Oh, really?" she asked, slightly teasingly, slightly curiously. It was always unexpected, but John had given her uncharacteristically thoughtful gifts in the past. No, that was being harsh. He only seemed like the callous, doesn't-give-a-damn military type at very first glance. She knew him to be quite thoughtful and courteous…_when he wanted to be_.

"Yup," he conceded with a smile. His stomach was turning into a knot, but with considerable effort he managed to keep his cool exterior. He knew he could play it out a little, give her a chance to soften up, to stop pretending to be the uptight and indifferent expedition leader he knew she wasn't.

"So…" she said after it was apparent John wasn't forking the supposed gifts over. And he _had _said _gifts_hadn't he? As in more than one? "Are you going to give them to me or are you waiting for me to say 'please'?"

"Knowing that you're this eager to have them is enough," he teased, receiving a playful glare from her. He reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve the first item he had fully intended to give her. It was the other two, he wasn't sure about…

Elizabeth didn't recognize the item until she had held it in her hand for several moments. It was her panties, the ones that had gone missing that night, the ones she couldn't remember what had happened to. But she remembered a little bit more now…

She and John had taken off their shoes to wade in the fountain. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, when they were extremely inebriated. Anyway, there they had been, playing and splashing around like a couple of schoolchildren. Well, not exactly like schoolchildren, for they somehow (she wasn't sure who had initiated it) had started making out. It had gotten rather hot and heavy, but she was pretty certain it didn't go much further than that.

What Elizabeth was definitely certain of was that recalling what it was like to kiss John Sheppard while he was two feet from her was not something she wanted to do.

"Uh…thank you for returning these," she replied, blushing slightly. John could tell her cheeks weren't pink enough to signify that she fully remembered the weight of the gesture he had just made, the reason he had her panties to return to her in the first place.

After a few quiet moments passed in which he didn't move from where he stood, Elizabeth remembered that he had said _gifts_.

"Is that it?" she asked, trying to read his face and failing. He looked as if he were deep in thought, involved in some sort of internal struggle, not returning lost items to a friend. "Or is there more? You did say _gifts_…as in more than one?"

"Yes," he confirmed in a voice not quite his usual playful one. It was laden with something else that she couldn't quite put her finger on. "Close your eyes."

Giving him a brief suspicious look, she obliged his request. Even with her eyes closed, she could still feel his presence, the heat of his body, smell him, a mixture of aftershave and sweat. She contemplated how if his scent was any more manly, it would be repulsive. As it was, she found herself drawn to it, and despised herself for feeling such a low, carnal attraction.

Her thoughts were soon interrupted as she felt him step in closer. Her heart automatically quickened the pace, thumping loudly within her chest. When she felt his lips gingerly press against hers, it leapt into her throat with the surprise of it. She hadn't expected him to do such a thing.

And not only that, she hadn't expected it to be this way. It was slow, tentative, like he wasn't sure of himself. And if Elizabeth knew anything about John Sheppard, it was that he never suffered for a lack of confidence. At least not for long, and she would've never thought he'd ever had or would have a deficiency in self-esteem where women were concerned. Maybe he was frustratingly brazen at times, but he knew who he was and where he stood. He never compromised the man he was. And Elizabeth admired that about him.

She thought that if John Sheppard wanted something, he'd pursue it with all he was worth. But here he was, hesitatingly kissing her. It was a gentle, almost fleeting touch, and she found herself enjoying it immensely. It reminded her off all the slow, serenely blissful moments in her life.

She felt like she was a delicate flower being tenderly picked, for the kiss was more than just a display of desire or affection. It was an act of adoration as well. John Sheppard treasured and admired her as much as he wanted to possess her. And if she wanted him to know how much she was enjoying herself, she had better react soon instead of just standing there reveling in his unsolicited affection.

At first, Elizabeth returned the kiss as delicately as he had initiated it, but within seconds it deepened in intensity beyond any embrace she had experienced before. It involved more than just their mouths and lips, tongues. It was a whole body experience and it completely overwhelmed her. John's hands pulled her into him and found places and ways of caressing her she had never known existed. He made every other man who had ever touched her look like a fool, like an inept, fumbling teenager. And by the time he broke off the embrace, she had been utterly consumed by it, forgetting everything in two galaxies save for the man who had just shown her a new level of sensuality.

John stepped back, resisting the temptation to continue what they had begun. It would be easy enough to get what he wanted from Elizabeth after kissing her like that, confusing her and throwing her off balance. But he didn't only want to possess Elizabeth; he wanted to know that she desired him as well. That was his real reason for what he had done, was doing, intended to do.

He took an appreciative moment to watch her as she attempted to compose herself, satisfied that he had been able to mess up her demeanor so thoroughly. Maybe it was cruel, but he took great pleasure in devastating her composure. It probably wouldn't be so much fun if she didn't place so much stock in reasoned control. But maybe there was a basis for her staunch adherence to control and reason. Perhaps, there was a wild side of her buried deep down under all the logic, morality and stability. If indeed there was a more adventurous side to Elizabeth (there had to be, she had led an expedition into the unknown, after all…), that was to which John was attempting to appeal.

There was a connection between them, something real and almost tangible, something he wanted to explore. All he had to do was to make her let go and take the leap…

"I have something else for you," he informed her after a few moments had passed, and her breathing had returned to normal. She still looked overwhelmed and slightly bewildered as she focused on what he said. This was a delicate situation. He had to let her know that it was perfectly fine if she turned him down. But after the way she had returned his kiss, he was fairly certain she wouldn't. "But I want you to know that if it's not something you want…that's fine. I'll never mention or think about it again." He reached in his pocket and she held out her hand inquisitively to receive the item. "But, I just have to know."

Elizabeth was shocked. _A condom?! John Sheppard wanted to have sex with __her?_ Well, really, why was she so shocked, especially after that kiss? She met his eyes and quickly looked away. He most definitely wanted her. What had given him the idea? She had never asked for…

It was then that Elizabeth finally wholly remembered what had passed between them the night of the O'Neill's' wedding. They had been drunk, had made out a little, okay a lot, it had been going, well, _there_. But then she had realized, thank god part of her was still thinking (something, unfortunately, that had more often than not failed her in her college days when she had a little too much to drink), how inebriated they were, how it probably wasn't such a good idea. However, at the same time, she had felt an incredible pull towards him, convincing her that the attraction was real and not just a figment of alcohol-fueled minds and endorphin-stimulated bodies. She had wanted him, but she had also known it was a bad idea in their state. So, in what had seemed like brilliant inspiration she had given him a rain check, her panties, so that if they still felt the attraction when their inhibitions and reservations were fully operational, they could explore it then.

The question she presently faced was _Did she want to explore it?_

John quietly watched Elizabeth do what Elizabeth did best…contemplate the issue. He smiled as she absently ran her tongue slowly between her lips, closing her eyes. Was she considering how he tasted, felt? Had she enjoyed it? Or had he done something wrong?

Then she was chewing her lip, looking everywhere but at him. When she began to wring her hands and finally, turned her back on him, he knew it was a difficult struggle. How hard could it be for her? What was so severe, so important that she couldn't make a decision? Either she wanted him or she didn't! What other factors could there be that made it so difficult for her?

He just wanted to tell her, _Stop __over thinking__ everything! It's a simple question with a simple answer. Do you feel the way I do? _But he bit his tongue. He had said his piece. The rest was up to her.

Instead, John found himself silently willing her to just tell the truth, because he was certain she felt the same way, when she finally faced him again.

_To hell with it!_ Elizabeth thought. She had decided to lead the expedition to Atlantis because she had wanted to live, had wanted adventure. And what greater adventure was there than falling in love with a man like John Sheppard?

So, without a word, Elizabeth walked up to John, threw her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss with more passion than he had thought her capable.

He had his answer.

THE END

**A/N: The point of the title of this chapter was to have them wake up together, again, but this convenient ending place popped up while I was writing, so… What happens next is up to your imagination. (the story goes on and on in my head with the standard sappiness, lots of sex and babies, etc.)**


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